Everyone Should be a Zombie

I am terrible at stepping outside my comfort zone.

As I said in my previous post, I’m not a very impulsive person. I absolutely hate leaving my comfort zone and trying new things. I need at least a month to consider even the smallest decisions and more often than not I spend that month considering it and then never making a decision anyway. Change is scary. Putting myself out there even more so.

But you know what, life doesn’t work that way. In order to get anywhere you have to take risks and change is necessary, no matter how hard you try to avoid it. At the risk of sounding like a motivational poster on a guidance counselor’s wall, life begins at the end of your comfort zone.

As I said, since I graduated college I’ve gotten better at taking risks. I’m still incredibly over cautious, but I try to listen to the little voice in the back of my head that tells me to do silly things like run 5ks, get tattoos, and ask for better projects at work. It was that little voice that told me I should volunteer at a local haunted house as a zombie this past Halloween and, you know what, it was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.

Let me set the scene for you a bit. Not only am I an over cautious person who hates putting herself out there, I also hate being the center of attention. I hate having everyone stare at me, which coincidentally was the reason I cried at my wedding. Don’t get me wrong, I love my husband with all my heart and it was an emotional experience getting married to him, but walking down the aisle took every ounce of willpower I had, which just demonstrates how much I actually love him. Anyway, because of this I’ve never considered acting. Get on stage in front of a crowd of strangers and pretend to be someone else for an undetermined amount of time? Welcome to my personal hell.

I guess I didn’t make the connection that being a zombie at a haunted house would require acting in front of strangers when my coworker first asked me if I wanted to help out, otherwise I probably would’ve said no. It also helped that two of my friends volunteered for the same night, which meant I would have backup. So against all the odds I said yes.

The actual anxiety of pretending to be a zombie in front of strangers didn’t actually hit until we were in the car on the way to the haunted house. We had to drive about fifteen minutes north of town and the whole time I was having doubts. This is going to be awkward. I’m going to be a terrible zombie. Will there be an easy way to get out of this if I’m absolutely miserable?

When we arrived to do make-up my doubts were fading. Well, it’s too late to turn back now, I thought to myself. Let’s give this a try. Our job as zombies wasn’t too complicated. Walk around outside the haunted houses and scare the people waiting in line. No talking, no touching people, stay in character. Easy peasy.


Got lots of compliments on my hat.

When I finally got out onto the street everything changed. My doubts were completely gone, all I was thinking about was who I could scare next. I instantly fell into character, which I had decided was a college student killed while out camping with friends. She was slow, shambling, silent, and didn’t quite understand she was dead. She wandered into crowds and followed people around, desperate to connect with people.

I walked up behind people and waited for them to turn around and scream. I stared at people, not blinking, until they got uncomfortable and tried to get away from me. I followed people who shied away from me, reaching out to them with gray, bloody hands.

It was so much fun. I was in full make-up and in a setting where people wanted to be scared. It wasn’t awkward, it wasn’t scary, it was just fun and something I would do again in a heartbeat. I am so glad I listened to the little impulsive voice in my head and volunteered and I would recommend that everyone volunteer for a haunted house at least once.

Being a zombie just confirmed for me that life does start outside your comfort zone. It also taught me that stepping outside your comfort zone doesn’t necessarily mean going to the extreme. Waiting until I had the opportunity to cover my face in make-up and scare people in a completely different town to try acting doesn’t mean I’m a coward or that it “didn’t count,”  it just meant that I had found the first step outside my comfort zone.  Also, when you play a character it’s not your responsibility to make everyone happy. It’s your job to stay in character. It’s the audience’s job to respond and set the mood. If the person acted scared, I would play along. If they didn’t respond or were jerks about it, I walked away. No harm done.

So I guess what I mean when I say everyone should be a zombie at a haunted house is that everyone should be a little impulsive and try playing a character. You could take it further and actually try out for a play or you could play it safe and just goof around with friends.

All I know is that for one night I got to be someone else and it was liberating, exhilarating, hilarious, and just plain fun.

Give it a try.


Acting on Impulse

I’ve never thought of myself as an impulsive person.

When I was a younger I was always very organized and very meticulous about how I used my time. I always had to have at least a week to study for a test and started assignments as soon as I got them. I planned out how many pages I would need to read to finish a book by a certain day and I always had my next book lined up. I was dependent on my planner.

In a way I took pride in being level-headed. People said I was responsible and dependable, which are good traits to have. Right?

Maybe, maybe not.

After I graduated from college my life became a little scattered. I’d spent more than 15 years of my life in school and I was used to it. No more homework, no more studying, no more classes. What was I supposed to do with all this free time?

Right after college I began volunteering at the local animal shelter. I helped with the shelter’s fundraisers, including the shelter’s annual 5k walk/run. I remember I was at the shelter, sitting at my desk and listening to the other volunteers talk about walking at the event. Someone asked me if I was going to register and walk.

I said no. I was going to run.

I was never a runner. I’ve always avoided running as much as I possibly could. I have no idea what came over me that made me decide to run a 5k. I was acting on impulse. Now I run three times a week and have done five more 5ks.

If I had stuck to my “responsible” behavior, I wouldn’t have even considered a 5k unless I had a year or two to train. I couldn’t just do something, I need to prepare. But you know what, if I had waited I probably would’ve never done it and I would have never discovered the joys of running.

I guess the point I’m trying to make is that sometimes being “responsible and dependent” is a terrible, terrible thing. Sometimes you just need to act on your impulse.

Today my life is back in one piece. I’m still responsible and dependable, but I listen to the little impulsive voice in the back of my head. Sometimes it has terrible ideas. Sometimes it has awesome ideas.

Some recent ideas it’s had include doing a triathlon, getting a new tattoo, and starting this blog with my brother.

I have no idea where this blog is going to go. Hell, I have no idea how this post is even going to end and that’s wonderful. Sometimes it’s okay not to plan things out completely. Sometimes you just have to do it and don’t waste time worrying.

Sometimes impulse is the way to go.